


Rewrite What's Gone Already

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [20]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Coffee Shops, Developing Friendships, Evolving relationships, Fan Encounters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Ben and Shannon's budding friendship continues to evolve.
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy, Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715134
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Rewrite What's Gone Already

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, y'all!
> 
> Title from the song 'People Get Ready' by the Frames.

Ben tapped his fingers on the tabletop and glanced at his watch. He'd come a bit early and secured one of the more private tables around the back of the cafe ensuring he could actually have a conversation without being interrupted too much. This was one of his favorite places; he'd met everyone who worked there and they took pains to protect his privacy as much as they could in a public place. His phone buzzed with a text.

_I’m here. Are you inside already or should I get a table._

He replied with the table location, and moments later, she came around the corner, caught sight of him, and offered him a small smile before ducking her head. He stood, deciding not to try a hug; they weren't friends quite yet, but they were both working toward that. He cupped her elbow and leant in to kiss both her cheeks, which she awkwardly reciprocated.

"It's nothing against you, Ben, but Christ I hate English greetings. One cheek? Both? Hug same time, no hug at all? Reserved head nod then turn away? Ugh."

He chuckled as he helped her slip her jacket off. "I suspect the same could be said about Americans and your myriad forms of greeting."

"We don't have myriad forms. Our main greeting is the handshake, and everything else depends on a person's comfort level. If I'd greeted my sister here, we'd've hugged because that's what we do. My cousin, whom I have a deep affection for, doesn't like to be touched very much even by people she loves, so a hug would make her very uncomfortable."

"Well, I think you can count the majority of the world in the 'no hug on first meeting’ group. Hugging, as you say, can be rather intimate."

"In order to save my awkwardness next time we see each other, can I just count on both cheeks being kissed?"

"Yes. Left cheek, then right."

"Except for when it's right, then left."

"True, but generally, I think your best bet would be to block the incoming kisser with your arm as you hold yours out to shake."

"Oh, I like that! I don't usually see y--well, I mean...uh, wow, there's really no way to finish this sentence without being slightly creepy, I don't think," she said, a small frown appearing between her eyes. 

Ben grinned. "Now I have to know!"

"Oh god, all right. I was going to say that I don't usually see you doing that, and that just sounds like I'm constantly searching for images of you greeting people so that I might know how you ‘usually’ do it."

"I'm hurt that you haven't," he said, chuckling.

"I think you should be happy I'm not putting your photos through the shredder anymore."

That one stung and he had no one to blame but himself. He smiled crookedly as he gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You're probably saving a few pence on your utility bill, at least."

She laughed, bright and loud, then clapped her hand over her mouth to try and muffle it. He grinned and fought the impulse he suddenly had to reach over, take her hand away from her mouth, and kiss her palm.

"I'm so glad that we've been able to move beyond our rocky start," she said after a few seconds, moving the hand at her mouth down to briefly cover and squeeze Ben's hand on the table.

"I am, too," he replied, turning his hand up and returning the brief squeeze before releasing her to hold his coffee cup with both hands. "I behaved abominably toward you, and I'll always be ashamed of that, especially as I think we'll be rather good friends going forward."

She nodded, letting her hair partially obscure her face for a moment before tucking it back behind her ear. Ben wondered what it had cost her to give up that bit of a shield and hoped that someday, she wouldn't feel the need for shielding around him. 

“I wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue, you know.”

He turned his cup around, then tapped the handle with his thumb. “It would’ve been moot had I behaved better in the first place.”

“I’ll let you have that. I’d been looking forward to meeting you and to have the literal door shut on what I’d hoped would be the beginning of a pleasant acquaintanceship was...well, it sucked, to be frank.”

“Yeah. I fucked up. And yet you still sent Tom after me.” He shook his head. “I was so angry. It was completely irrational, of course, but I was so very angry.”

“Tom did say he had some soothing to do when he got there.”

“Yeah, he did, because if the situation had been reversed, I’d never have done the same for you, so I thought you were pitying me and had sent him as some sort of proof that you were somehow more secure in your hold over him.”

She drew in a breath slowly, thinking how to put what she wanted to say, but instead of speaking, she sighed and raised her hand in a stunted shrug.

“I know. I ascribed all sorts of terrible motives to you in those days, Shannon. It’s unfair, but you were the embodiment of every nightmare I’d ever had about losing Tom: beautiful, self-assured, matching up so well to him in so many ways…” He trailed off, flinching a little as he remembered telling Tom flat out that night that he didn’t want to share him with her.

“But you matched up, too, Ben. And I know he told you he wanted you because he told me he did.”

“I was too busy being a miserable sod to truly hear it. That’s why I say it’s on me.”

“Parts of it, yes, absolutely, but parts were for sure on Tom and me. I’m not trying to take on more blame than I deserve, here; the both of you made a mess of things in various ways before I even met Tom, I was just an unfortunate catalyst.”

Ben huffed a breath. “That’s probably a good way to look at it. You did the best you could once you were caught in the fallout.”

She reached across the table to touch the back of his hand with her fingertips. “And now we have the chance to be the opposite of that mess. We’re picking up the pieces and making them work _for_ us moving forward.”

“At least I know you’ve the backbone to tell me when I need to sort myself out,” he said, his smile rueful.

“Oh yes, no worries on that,” she replied, chuckling as she withdrew and sat back in her chair. 

He took that as a signal to change the subject and was more than happy to follow her unspoken cue. “So what have you got on the next while?”

“I’ve got a couple of shows I’m curating here in London over the next month and then I’ve got a thing in Italy in six weeks.”

“A thing?”

“It’s a favour I’m doing for an old colleague: a private showing of a private collection in a private location over a long weekend.”

His eyebrows rose. “That is the beginning to a Bond movie.”

Shannon laughed again. “Nothing so exciting, I assure you. It’s basically people with too much money who want to flaunt it at their social circle. I’m just there to help get their private art collection set up in the way that best shows it off during what amounts to an extended house party.”

“So how long, in total, will you be in Italy?”

“All told, a week. Two days to get set up, the gathering is three days, one day to break down, and on the seventh day I do some back end work and fly home in the evening.”

“So you don’t do any sightseeing whilst you’re in the area?”

“I have done, certainly, but this time, no. I’ve got enough work waiting back here for me.”

“And Tom, too,” he said, grinning.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled back. “Yeah. He’s a pretty great reason to come back as soon as possible.”

“One of the best, really.”

“So what about you? What’s on the horizon?”

“I’ll be doing some stuff locally with some occasional jaunts abroad for the next several weeks. A lot of interviews and some voice over work, but it’ll be good to be at home for awhile.”

“I bet it will. You’ve been in and out of town for awhile now.”

“‘Tis true, we’ll have to put our diaries together to see about scheduling. I’ve been thinking about all of this lately, trying to carve out so much time in all our busy schedules.”

She looked down, sighing. “Yeah.”

He was a little nervous about bringing up his thoughts because it was early in their detente, but he did think she’d be amenable for the most part. “Perhaps to maximise time spent with Tom where otherwise we’d have a shorter time with him separately, we could all get together?” She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, he plowed on. “Not all the time, of course, I mean, we’ll all want privacy and his full attention, but sometimes. Maybe. I think it could work.”

“I think so, too, Ben. I’m glad you brought it up.”

She sounded as relieved as he felt, and he couldn’t help but grin at her. “I thought I’d try to be the reasonable one for a change.”

“Thanks for that,” she said, returning his grin. “And on that note, I’m going to get some tea. Would you like a refill of what you’ve got?”

“I’ve still got about half, but thank you for offering.”

“Okay, back in a few minutes then.” 

He watched her walk back the way she’d come in before, able to appreciate her loveliness now the way he hadn’t been able to before with jealousy strangling him. Shaking his head at himself, he took a drink from his coffee and wished he’d let her order him another as it was lukewarm; still good, but it would be better topped up hot. It was only a minute later that Shannon came round the corner again empty handed. His eyebrows rose. 

“They knew I was back here with you so they offered to bring it since there was a bit of a line.”

“They are lovely here, yes. I’ve been a patron since before I got ‘famous’ and they do really try to allow some privacy whenever possible.”

“I also have a small cafe like this I’ve been going to forever. I’ve had Tom in before and while they don’t have an entire back room like they do here, it does have an alcove in the back that offers a semblance of privacy, and they become full service when they deem it necessary.”

“Which is that?”

“It’s called the Old Spot.”

“I’ve heard of it, though I’ve not actually been before.”

“It’s lovely. They have a small but excellent menu and a wide variety of beverage choices.”

“Perhaps the next time we get together, we’ll go there.”

She smiled but it was inwardly directed, not at him, so he waited until her gaze sharpened again. “I think you’ll like it.”

“What were you remembering?”

“Hmm?”

“Only you were smiling as if you were remembering something quite lovely.”

“I’ve had a lot of good memories there since I came back to London.”

“How did you find it? Like, here, obviously it’s in my neighbourhood and I’ve been coming for ages.”

“It’s near both a tube and a bus station I use when I’ve got errands. One cold and blustery November day, I ducked in and it was so warm and inviting--there’s a huge fireplace on one wall--that I decided to treat myself to some tea. I ended up also getting some tomato bisque and hanging out for an hour or so. The barista was lovely and we had a good chat and so I kept coming back.”

“Is there a high turnover there?”

“Some, like university students and holiday staffers come and go but the barista I first met those years ago is still there; she manages it now. And there really isn’t much turnover at all for the past five years aside from the students and holiday staffers. Do you still have much the same staff here since you first came?” 

“The owners and two baristas have been and they make certain that orienting their new employees includes explaining that celebrities appreciate privacy whenever possible and that this does not include texting your bff to come and get a photo or autograph.”

“Goddamn straight,” the barista who came around the corner said as she dropped off a mug for Shannon and whisked his half full mug away, replacing it with a full steaming one. “Play the long game and you get so much more than one photo op.”

“Oh, indeed. And thank you for this,” Ben said, taking a tiny sip from his new, hot coffee.

“Thank this one,” she said, gesturing to Shannon with her elbow as she walked away.

“Thank you, Shannon. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to, though, so thanks for giving in gracefully.”

He huffed a laugh. “I shall admit to taking a sip of the last cup, finding it cool, and wishing I’d taken you up on your offer, so I’m glad you thought of me.”

She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “It is the sort of thing friends do.”

“Unequivocally.” He snorted at catching himself using language to distance as he had in the past. “Sorry, sorry.” When he looked at her out of the side of his eyes, she seemed amused as she lifted her cup, which was an excellent outcome of what could have been quite sticky.

“Tom would be so proud of us,” she said with a tiny smile that would be right at home on Sherlock Holmes’s face. Not in a smug way, but rather one of his micro-expressions for the people he cared about; a quiet acknowledgement that included only those who were a part of the group. For a moment he wondered if he wasn’t supposed to catch it, but then her lips twitched and, ridiculously, he was relieved that he’d been on the right track before. 

“Would he hand out gold stars do you think, for our good behaviour?”

“I’m sure he has some around from Louis, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“At least we’d be guaranteed a full and normal gold star and not one of those misshapen “you tried” ones.”

“Benedict Cumberbatch, you’re not even online, how do you know about “you tried” stars?”

“Martin Freeman, internet denizen and professional troll.”

“Ah yes, your blogger, indeed.” 

“He and his partner Amanda are hilarious and love to troll the fans. You’ll meet them some day, I’m sure.” As soon as he’d finished saying that, he realised that he hadn’t seen them since the last strop he’d thrown over Shannon taking too much of Tom’s time. Right. Well, he’d need to have a conversation with them soon. 

“I look forward to it, though I imagine they have their own busy schedules.” It wasn’t exactly a question, though she did raise the end of the sentence.

“They do, but it’ll happen eventually.”

“Do they know about--” she broke off and looked around before continuing ”--you and Tom?” 

“Stealth is not your forte, is it,” he said, smirking. She pressed her lips together as she flushed, and Ben knew he’d hit a sour note rather than the more humourous one he’d been aiming for. “I’m sorry, Shannon. I know you were just looking out, and it’s appreciated even though I sounded like a first class tosspot about it.”

“All right,” she said with an awkward shrug, her hair falling across her face again.

“I mean it, you know. I was taking the piss but we don’t really know each other well enough yet for you to know that straight off and that was my error.” 

After a moment, she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Apology accepted, and thank you.”

“To answer your question, they do know, including what we get up to.”

Shannon’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Really?”

“They know it about Tom and me, I mean; they don’t know anything remotely personal about you.”

“Aside from the fact that I’m a first class bitch who is trying to get my boyfriend to dump his boyfriend type of thing?”

“I don’t think I ever called you a first class bitch,” he offered, grimacing.

She laughed and shook her head. “Not in those exact words, anyway.”

“I believe I already said I behaved badly toward you.”

“I had some choice words for you as well, I don’t hold it against you.”

He took a sip of his coffee, considering, then set it down and looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Are you a glutton for punishment, Benedict?”

“You have no idea,” he replied, smirking.

“I don’t know, I think I might have an inkling.”

“All right, I’ll give you that,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Still, though, I’m curious.”

“Well, the main thing I kept saying was that I had to believe you weren’t a monumental prick all the time or else Tom wouldn’t want you around. I mean, I called you all the usual epithets: asshole, fuckhead, that sort of thing.” 

“That’s all pretty tame.”

“Shitweasel may have come out a time or two.”

“Are you a big Stephen King fan?”

“Well, he’s from Maine too, but no, not really; horror is not my deal. I do appreciate a good pop culture epithet, though. Also, why am I not surprised that you knew just where shitweasel came from,” she replied, laughing.

“Dreamcatcher, the bringer of shitweasels and the difference between a fuckaree and a fuckarow.”

“The former being a good thing, the latter not so much, but I didn’t need Stephen King to know that.”

“We can’t all grow up in Maine.”

“True. Some people have to settle for growing up in the original England rather than New England.”

Ben laughed, pleased at their interplay. “Apparently, you were lucky enough to spend parts of your youth in both places.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Did Tom tell you that?”

“Actually, no. I, ehm...I googled you after I found out which art gallery Tom had been to the night before. He was as circumspect with information about you as you’d hope he might be.”

“He was circumspect about information regarding you as well, if you’d ever wondered. I only figured it out because my best friend Edward had me watch the extras on Stuart.”

“Tom’s fucking bismarking comments,” Ben groaned, putting his hand over his face.

“It wasn’t that in itself, though, because I had no idea what that meant until Tom said it to the interviewer. It was you saying, ‘don’t put that in’ and ‘you can’t just say that’ rather than ‘that didn’t happen, Tom, you prick’.”

“Hoist on my own petard.”

“Indeed, and let that be a lesson to you.”

“Just me?” 

“Tom has already heard this,” she says, chuckling. 

“Ah, okay. As long as it’s to both of us.”

“Well, clearly you’re both better at the not basically announcing that you may have gotten up to some shenanigans on set to anyone who watches that interview whether it’s from the disc or searching it out on youtube, so that’s good.” 

“Kindly remember that young men such as Tom and I often get up to laddish shenanigans on set—witness Tom’s Band of Brothers addition—so it probably isn’t as obvious as you’re imagining. I’m sure there will be plenty of people saying, ‘I knew it’ if we do ever go public, but I don’t think that’s an issue right now.”

“Er...does slapping people in the face with a flaccid penis count under “laddish”, Ben?” 

“Absolutely, it does! Are you suggesting that if you had a flaccid penis, you wouldn’t slap someone else in the face with it?” He had to work hard not to laugh out loud at the clear look of ‘what the fuck are you on about, you great muppet’ that currently resided on Shannon’s face. “Well?”

“I don’t think I would, actually. And anyway, it was Tom who did the deed. Did you ever slap Tom in the face with your flaccid penis?”

“A gentleman would never tell.”

“Which means no, you didn’t.”

Ben chuckled. “To be fair, I could have.” 

“Could you have, though?”

“There was no dynamic between us back then. I had zero experience and, as you know, he’s well versed in not overwhelming his partner with that without discussion. I felt things though. I didn’t understand them at the time, but things he did, certain tones of voice, certain holds and positions...it was all there.”

“After we had “the talk”, when I thought back, I could see that as well. As you said, nothing overt, though I think it was hard on him sometimes, keeping that part of himself held back when I was unconsciously inviting it out.” 

He desperately wanted to ask if she and Tom were partaking in the lifestyle--Tom would only tell him they’d discussed it and that she’d seemed open to try it out--but a few people came round the back and the room was no longer theirs alone so he decided to table that particular subject for now, and instead turned to a safer topic. “Tom told me you have a niece around Louis’s age?”

Shannon looked incredibly relieved at his redirection. “Yes. Her name is Aoife.”

He blinked. “That is an incredibly Irish name.”

“My sister’s husband is an incredibly Irish man called Donal and they live in Ireland so…” 

“How often do you get to see her?”

“My mother also lives here in London, so several times a year. Sometimes I go see them in Ireland, but mostly Tessa and Aoife come here.”

“Without him?”

“Yes. He can’t take very much of my mother. To be fair to him, though, hardly anyone can take much of my mother.”

“Ah.”

“Very diplomatic response,” she said, her grin sharp.

“How did the meeting between Tom and her truly go? He didn’t go into any real detail, just said, and I quote, ”She’s all right when she’s not focussed on trying to direct Shannon’s life the exact opposite way she’s living it”. ”

She grimaced, then huffed a rueful laugh. “He has not bucked the tradition. I mean, she’s unfailingly--sometimes infuriatingly--polite, and he did try, but she doesn’t think I’ve accomplished what I should have by this point, and she doesn’t think me “taking up with an actor” is going to help get me to where she thinks I should be, so I didn’t hold out much hope.”

“It sounds like your mother is a difficult person to interact with.”

“She certainly can be, but not always. She wants the best for her daughters, it’s just that she doesn’t always think we’re doing the correct things to achieve that.”

Ben hummed, non-committal. Tom really hadn’t gone into detail, but his carefully neutral face and voice as he’d said what little he had to Ben had spoken volumes.

Shannon looked down, then sighed, tucked her hair behind her ear, and looked back up at him, determined. “On the other hand, I really like Anne and Chips.”

Smiling to himself at how she’d paused for a second on Chips’s name, he said, “You get used to calling a grown man Chips, I promise.”

“Busted,” she said, laughing.

“It took me awhile too,” he admitted. “Tom would get at me about it at first, but then I reminded him that he calls the man Dad and so he has no leg to stand on.”

“I am going to remember that, although he hasn’t said anything to me about it so far.”

“Perhaps he learnt his lesson with me.”

“Well, thanks for taking one for the team there.” She ducked her head again, but he could see the flush she was trying to hide.

He couldn’t deny the warmth her words generated in him, though it did surprise him in the moment. “I’d like to think of us as a team going forward,” he said, reaching across to lightly touch her arm.

“Thanks, Ben, I’m pretty sure we’ll make a damn good team,” she replied, nodding as he withdrew and leant back in his chair.

They both took drinks of their beverages, allowing each other a little space after the strangely charged moment, ending up smiling at each other.

“Can I just say that I never imagined it could be this easy between us?” Ben said.

“I’d always hoped it could be.”

“I hope it always will be.”

She nodded, then her smile faded. “Incoming.”

He took a deep breath, but didn’t turn, just waited. A few seconds later, two people were standing at the side of their table, and it was then that he looked up at them. “Hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but my missus and I were wondering can we get a photo with you?” 

Ben looked at Shannon, cocking his head, and she inclined hers in answer before turning to the couple. “Would you like me to take the photo?”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the woman said, “Especially since we’re sort of invading your date.” 

Shannon snorted and pushed her chair back to stand. “It’s not a problem.”

Ben was glad she hadn’t tried to correct the woman, as that often turned into “doth protest too much” syndrome. He stood in between them and pasted a smile on his face. 

She took the photo, then looked at it. “I think you’ll want another one as this one isn’t great.” She got them centered in the frame, then grinned. “Okay, everyone say shitweasel!” 

“Christ,” Ben said, laughing. “I’m so sorry,” he said to his bemused fans. “Do we need another?” he asked Shannon.

“No, there’s a couple of good ones so you’re set,” Shannon replied, handing the mobile back to the man.

“Thank you so much,” he said to her. “And thank you, Mr. Cumberbatch, for allowing it.”

“Yeah, we really love you as Sherlock,” the woman added.

“Thank you for being so kind, I truly appreciate it,” Ben replied, pressing his hands together and nodding. The couple wandered off, excitedly looking at the photos, but now other patrons were glancing their way and whispering amongst themselves. “We may as well leave now; if we stay, I’ll get slammed with fans wanting autographs or photos.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” 

She took one last deep drink from her cup as did he, and they put their mugs in the tray by the door as they exited. Out on the street, he touched her shoulder.

“I’m sorry to have cut this short, I was enjoying our time together.” He considered inviting her to his flat, but dismissed it as too soon.

“Me, too, but needs must. We’ll get together again soon. Maybe at Tom’s as sort of a mid point between our own flats that doesn’t include your adoring public.”

“That could definitely work.” He paused, then grinned. “I’m going to kiss your cheeks now.”

She chuckled as he leant in, offering him first her left cheek then her right.

“Quick study. I appreciate that.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he said, winking at her. When she laughed, he found himself wanting to lean back in and feel it against his mouth. 

“Text me sometime,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. 

“I shall. Speak soon.” 

She let her hand drop, then turned and walked away. He watched until she disappeared around the corner, wondering what on Earth was going on. Was he truly developing feelings for Shannon now? That could only lead to disaster, surely. Sighing, he pushed it all down for the moment and began walking home.


End file.
